


The Weird Old Man (who kinda looks like dad)

by MotherOftheUniverse



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abusive Filbrick Pines, F/M, Filbrick Pines Is A Jerk, Filbrick Pines' Bad Parenting, Ford Goes Back in Time, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, Ford Pines is a Good Brother, Ford Pines-centric, Gen, Homeless Stan Pines, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mullet Stan Pines, Murder, Post-Canon, Rape Recovery, Stan Goes through some pretty bad shit just warning ya, Stan O' War, Stan Pines Bad Past, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stan has had a lot of relationships and most of them where pretty bad so, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tagging as I go, Time Travel, Young Stan Pines, it's gonna get pretty dark, more tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherOftheUniverse/pseuds/MotherOftheUniverse
Summary: There where many moments in his life that Stan was lucky to survive. Though, for a few of them, he had somebody looking out for him.Ford is given a time tape rigged to transport him to Stan's location wherever he goes, and a list of dates. And he's going to take full advantage of it.
Relationships: Carla McCorkle/Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket/Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Stan Pines/Original Male Character(s), Stan Pines/Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 83





	The Weird Old Man (who kinda looks like dad)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I got this idea from a few different fics. One of them being The Day's You Didn't Mention, and I think the other was called the Matchbox? Or Little Matchbox Stan, or something like that. Anyways, basically, Ford goes back in time and helps Stan get through some of his worst moments. We will have bonding, fluff, and a shit-ton of angst. 
> 
> This story will get dark. Like, really dark. I'll update the tags as I go, but do know that there will be some nasty business going on.

There was a certain bridge in Glass Shard Beach that was known for its fatal drop. It connected the two roads across a sewer outlet. The jump was almost a hundred foot drop, where you would land in concrete and shallow waters. 

The bridge was technically called St. Hamel’s bridge, named after the priest from the local christain church who commissioned the building of the bridge. But it’s better-known name was the “suicide bridge”. 

Stanley and Stanford didn’t quite understand the name as a child. When they asked, their mother had brushed them off, telling them that she’d explain it when they were older. When they asked their dad, he said it’s where cowards went to kill themselves. 

Needless to say, their mom wasn’t exactly happy that he’d given such an explanation. 

It wasn’t until fifth grade that they truly understood what the bridge was. 

Stanley, as much as he loathed to admit it, was something of a romantic, especially during childhood. He loved stories with happy endings, and was as invested in the romantic lives of the comic book superheroes as he was invested in their general adventures, and he always dreamed of having a girlfriend and a family. Ford could remember Stan getting extremely distressed while reading his comics when the villain abducted the hero’s sweetheart. Ford had rolled his eyes at Stan’s panic. They were cheezy comics, and Ford already knew the trope. The girl would be kidnapped as a McGuffin for the hero to rescue, the entire ordeal would further the plot very little in the end, and the girl would always be saved. But, for all the repetitiveness of the whole “kidnap the hero’s girl” trope, Stan would always get extremely invested, whispering to himself “Come on! You gotta save her” 

In addition to being a romantic, Stanley had no shame. Shermie had nicknamed him “heartbreaker” because Stan had at least a dozen kindergarten girlfriends, sometimes all at once. Their mother would talk about love to the young twins a lot, and while Ford tended to tune her out (It was mushy talk, and why would Ford listen to mushy talk when he could be reading about anthropology), Stan would hang on to every word. According to their mother, if you were in love, it was a beautiful thing, and you should never be afraid to express it. No matter who you were in love with. 

_ No matter who you were in love with _ . 

Kindergarten girlfriends didn’t mean anything. After growing up and learning about real romantic love, Ford and Stan both agreed that Kindergarten _Anything_ wasn’t more than two kids being mushy together because they’re not old enough to understand what romance really is, and are just mimicking the adults and older kids by pretending they were gonna get married in the future or something. The adults in their lives understood that, so it wasn’t like Stan declaring that Paul Heinkle (a boy) was his new “girlfriend” (Stan didn’t even understand the meaning of the word,  _ why  _ did it even matter?) should’ve meant anything. 

Their dad punished Stan for it anyways, and Stan quickly learned that boys  _ don’t _ date other boys. Or, at least, boys don’t date other boys and _tell_ anyone about it. 

Neither Ford nor Stan understood what was so wrong about dating the same gender. Their father had said doing so made you a “queer”, and he didn’t want a queer in his house. Looking back, the two of them now know what was “wrong”; Homophobia. Some people were judgmental, and just didn’t like it. And back in the 50’s and 60’s, those people were everywhere. 

But, again, Stan had no sense of shame. And just because their father (and to a lesser extent their mother. She wasn’t one of  _ those people _ per se, but she had a picturesque image of her boys settling down with wives and giving her grandchildren, and the thought of them straying from the picture displeased her; they could tell) had made it extremely clear that he would  _ not _ tolerate a queer boy living in his house, didn’t mean Stan would feel anything but maybe a slight fear of punishment if he liked boy’s behind their father’s back. 

Ford admires that in Stan, or he does now at least. Stan had been able to do something that Ford hadn’t been capable of at the time; accept his sexuality and run with it. Back then, however, when Ford was still young and didn’t know that, in years time, such things would be perfectly normalized, _and_ that Ford would actually be actively participating in such activities (Stan had gotten such a kick out of the history Ford had with Mothman, and Ford would never forget his past-times with Cathulu), Ford had been scared out of his wits. Especially in fifth grade, when Stan had “befriended” Marcus Finch. 

Fifth grade is when Stan started moving on from Kindergarten girlfriends to real crushes. And hoo boy, did Stan have a serious  _ crush  _ on Marcus. To make matters worse, Marcus had a crush on him back, so instead of Stan just making those stupid dreamy eyes at the boy (subtle, hard to notice, wouldn’t get him caught), he would get  _ seriously _ chummy with Marcus, and the two would write what Ford could only describe as “love letters” to eachother. 

Stan’s letters were sloppy and filled with spelling errors. Stan had never been that good of a writer or a reader (it wasn’t until much much later that they figured out that Stan had both dyslexia and dysgraphia), so the letters could hardly be made out. If anyone saw Stan’s letters, as long as they didn’t try too hard, they wouldn’t be able to understand what was being written. 

Marcus, on the other hand, had neat penmanship, maybe even neater than Fords, and was practically an english prodigy. You took one look at a letter sent from Marcus and you  _ knew _ what it was about. And Stan made absolutely  _ horrid _ efforts to hide the letters too! He  _ insisted _ on keeping the latest ones in his backpack, and he wouldn’t let Ford get rid of any of the letters, nor did he let Ford hide it in an actually  _ safe  _ location (like burying them in the sand underneath the docks). It was only a matter of time before people found out about it, and all Ford could do was bide his time, chewing on his nails, until the other shoe dropped, and Stan’s crush on Marcus was outed to the world. 

Ford was right. They were caught eventually. Stan had gotten the beating of a lifetime from their father (That had been the first time that their father _really_ beat him. He was ten years old!), and the entire school had shamed him for it. Before that incident, people only bullied Stan because he wouldn’t let the weaker kids get picked on; he wouldn’t let the bullies do what they wanted without consequence, so, in turn, the mean kids who ran the school would give him a hard time. Now, even the “loser” kids who’d been Stan’s friends would avoid him. Couldn’t be seen with the queer kid, after all. Their dad's might suspect something. 

Looking back, that was around the time Stan started becoming strangely clingy. It was also around the time when Ford would see belt marks on his lower back that Ford had always written off as sun burns or a rash. He knew better now, of course. 

Stan was bullied hard, but Stan had always been bullied. Besides, Stan had Ford to keep him company, and he had boxing to make him look “manly”, and he had a father that would deny the entire incident, and fight to cover it up. Stan’s interest in boys seemingly died that day, and eventually, he would come to deny ever liking boys at all, at least for the time. (Things were different now, thank  _ god _ ). The entire thing lost it’s muster eventually. Stan was fine, or at least as fine as he could be considering the situation. 

Marcus, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. He was something of a wallflower before the entire thing happened, and wasn’t exactly appreciative of the sudden negative attention. Marcus didn’t really have any siblings or friends that could help him, what with his older brother being in college. And now that Stan wasn’t allowed to hang out with him, he really did have nobody. Stan didn’t start denying the incident until 7th grade, long after Marcus moved away, but it wasn’t like Marcus didn’t notice how Stan tried to keep his head down. And now, thanks to the entire thing, his parents were also getting affected. Everyone would give his family dirty looks wherever they went. Stan and Ford honestly didn’t know it was possible for adults to be bullied until them. 

The events leading up to the incident were unclear. Only the family knew her real reasons for doing what she did. The bridge already had the reputation. She wasn’t the first, but she was the only one that Stan and Ford could really say they knew. 

Marcus’s mother jumped off the suicide bridge during the summer after that year. Marcus moved away soon after, and Stan and Ford never saw the Finch family again. 

Apparently, things had been going on with that family for years. The mother had always suffered from depression. Her brother, Marcus’s uncle, had died not long before Stan and him had gotten caught. She hadn’t taken the bullying Marcus received lightly, nor did she appreciate her “friends” leaving her when they learned her son was queer. The woman had always been a bit of a mess, but she had hit her breaking point.

When Stan and Ford received the news, they truly understood  _ why _ the bridge was named this way. They also understood what suicide really was. They had always known that pain could kill; heart attack, loss of limbs, wound infections; all of those things were painful, and they could kill you. It had never really occurred to them what kind of damage emotional pain could cause. 

Stan had been hauntingly sympathetic to Marcus's mother, Ford remembered. “She was hurting, and she couldn’t take it,” He had rationalized. 

“She left her husband and son behind!” Ford had quickly snapped. “She let  _ them _ hurt because she couldn’t buck up and take it. She was selfish!” 

“Well maybe she thought they’d be better off if she was dead! Do you think  _ that’s _ selfish!?” Stan had shouted back. 

Shermie had quickly come into their rooms to break up the fight between them that spurred afterwards. “You two are too young to be thinking about these things,” He’d growled at them. “Read a few comic books, play on the beach, and be kids. If I find out you two were talking about this again, then I’ll flush your candy down the toilet!” 

The conversation was forgotten, or at least it  _ was _ . Ford couldn’t recall it until the night Stan had been kicked out. 

He had nightmares about it. Stan had already confessed to feeling like the world would be better off without him, but that had been a while ago, and Stan had been going through a rough patch with Carla back then. Ford had summed it up to that. But now, every conversation he ever had with Stan about those thoughts were playing through his mind in an unending dream. 

Ford had checked the bridge for his brother the next day. He checked the town for his brother's car. He found it parked outside of Carla McCorkle’s apartment. Ford had scoffed. He was probably gonna be leaching off of his girlfriend now.  _ Have fun with that. See how long she wants to stick around. She isn’t  _ stuck _ with you like  _ I _ was.  _ Of course Stan was fine. There was no reason to be worried. He had scholarships to apply to anyways. 

Ford, - present day Ford - stood by a tree, looking at the bridge. From where he was, he could see both roads that lead to it, and a decent portion of the drop. He could also see anyone and everyone who was on that bridge at the time. 

The bridge had been torn down in the 70’s, and the canal had been filled up. The grounds eventually became a shopping mall. Nobody missed the old bridge. 

The strange had always been attracted to Ford. It had always been attracted to Stanley, and Shermie, and Shermie’s kids, and Dipper and Mabel. His mother’s entire ancestors had always described themselves as a magnet for weirdness. Ford had looked into his mother’s family history, and discovered that one or three relatives might not have been entirely human, nor from this world. 

It didn’t surprise Ford at all that he managed to come across a time-tape. 

He and Stan had gotten into some pretty big trouble with the Time Beuro for playing with it, but they were let off the hook because of Stanley’s actions during weirdmageddon. Stanley had been sent on his way, but one of the time cops had held Ford back. 

“You have the face of the man who killed Bill Cipher,” She had told him, mimicking very familiar words. Ford had raised an eyebrow, telling her “well duh, we’re identical twins,” and had attempted to leave, but the woman had stopped him. She pressed a list of dates into his hands, along with a slightly modified time tape. Then she let him leave. 

Ford had gone back to a random date on the list, and then a few random dates off the list. He found that the time tape had been modified to send him to Stanely’s location, if Stan existed at that point in time. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with these dates until he figured out the common thread. 

On January 15th, 1987, he found Stan lying alone in the woods, half-frozen, far away from anyone who would find him. He was incredibly thin, and had dark bags under his eyes. It seemed he passed out from exhaustion. 

On August 3rd, 1972, he found Stan bleeding out in the back of an ally. He’d been beat to a bloody pulp, had his stomach cut open, and the fabric used to tie him up and gag him had been bloodsoaked to the point that they seemed to stick to his brother’s skin like glue. 

On July 1st, 1981, he found Stan lying on the basement floor, his brand so incredibly infected Ford nearly thought it was a fleshy parasite attached to his skin, rather than something coming from his brother's body. 

Ford had returned to the boat. He hadn’t done anything but observe yet, but he knew what the Time Beru had been asking of him. 

The list of dates in his hand were dates where Stan had almost died. Or, in better terms,  _ would _ have died, if it wasn’t for the mission Ford had just been given. 

So, the moment Stan went to bed, Ford entered the bathroom, armed with super-glue and the leftovers from his last haircut (Stan had been growing his hair out long, but Ford preferred to keep his short). He glued the trimmed hair all over his face, giving himself a bushy mustache and a crappy-looking beard. 

Stan had once said that he had vague memories of this “weird old man that kinda looked like dad” showing up at different points in his past, never seeming to age. Ford decided to take that as permission to break some time rules. 

No way was he just going to settle for being a last-minute rescuer. Yes, he would visit each and every date on the list, but he figured he could do more. He wouldn’t make any drastic changes. Time rules, and all that. But what he could do was be the brother he should’ve been. 

He was going to go save Stanley’s life all the times he would’ve died without this time intervention otherwise, but he wasn’t limiting himself to just that. After all, a friendly old man talking to a young sport wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. And if a few of the people who tormented Stanely over the years happened just  _ disappear _ , then nobody would be the wiser. 

This is what brought Ford to Suicide Bridge, on April 21st, 1968. The night that Stanley had been kicked out. 

Stan’s car was parked on the road, and the boy himself was standing at the bridge, cigarette in his mouth, watching the smoke sail from the stick and down into the fathoms below. Ford stood there for a while, just watching. It was one thing looking at pictures, or seeing a Stan of another dimension; Stan’s that weren’t actually his. But seeing  _ his _ Stanely, in real life, at the time, once again socked him in the jaw with how young Stanely really was. 

They’d been sixteen that day. Two months from seventeen, a little big more than a year from eighteen. Ford thought he was so grown-up. He seriously thought that he and Stan were adults at the time.  _ God _ what an arrogant thought. 

Stanley was sixteen, had the face of a baby, and still hasn't reached his full height yet. Ford wishes he realized just how much of a  _ kid _ both he and Stanely were at the time. He wished he knew that growing up was gradual, and slow, and something to be earned, not something you could just take for yourself. 

Ford approached the bridge, keeping to the shadows. Stan didn’t notice him. 

The little boy flicked his cigarette into the canal below. His shoulders shook, as he started to sob. He mumbled to himself; a nervous tick. He always would ramble on about anything and nothing whenever he was sad, angry, or scared.

“I’m such a screw-up. Pa don’t want me home. He never did. I knew he was gonna kick me out, I knew it, he was jus waitin' for an excuse, and I had to go an' ruin Ford's live to give him one!” 

Ford waited for Stan to make a move. He had already broken a  _ lot _ of rules to get the other dates he planned to visit, besides the ones given to him. He wasn’t about to draw more attention to himself. But god, he hated just standing there and letting his brother cry alone. 

Finally, the moment he’d been made to stop comes by. 

“I was right all along,” Stan had told himself. “They really are better off without me,” 

He swung one leg over the railing, and climbed to the other side of it, his feet on the edge of the concrete, and nothing to stop him from falling. Ford quickly made a dash for his brother. 

“Goddamn it, what am I doing!?” Stanley snapped at himself. Ford suddenly stopped in his tracks, and hid behind his brother's car. 

“Ya told them you’d show ‘em,” Stan growled at himself. “Ya ain’t letting this  _ bullshit _ be the end of everything, Stanley! Get yer head back on!” 

And with that declaration of war, Stan began to climb back over the railings. “You really was jus’ bout to let those bastards win? Sure everyone think’s I’m better off gone, but that’s why I gotta show ‘em!” 

Ford lets out a silent sigh of relief, wondering why this date was on the list. 

Then a bird landed on the railing, cawing directly in Stan’s face. He screamed, falling backwards, and towards the deadly drop. 

_ Yeah, that makes sense. _

Ford dashed over to the edge and caught Stan by the scruff of his T-shirt. Ford remembered always complaining that Stan was heavy whenever he had to balance the kids weight, but now that he was older, it felt almost too easy to grab his brother, lift him over the edge of the railing, and put him back down on the safe and solid ground. 

“W-w-what the hell!?” Stan gasped out. “Oh my god! I almost– I almost–!” The realization of his near death experience seemed to hit the poor kid like a truck. He shook so hard Ford thought that his molecules might come loose, and tears had gathered into the corner of his eyes. 

“Are you alright, St— Son?” Ford asked, hoping he didn’t startle his brother. 

Stan turned to the stranger in front of him, “Dad?!” He gasped out at first, his face red with embarrassment. How much of that had his father seen?! What was he going to think now!? Here he was, a sniveling mess, and—

“Um, I’m not your father,” The man said quickly. Stan quickly took a second look and realized, no, he wasn’t. The guy he was looking at was much older, and had brown eyes, instead of blue. 

“My name is…” Ford trailed off. He had never been good at giving himself fake names. “Uh, Crow…” He said staring at the bird that was still perched on the bridge railing, looking annoyed that the human's hadn’t left already. Ford turned his head, looking for any other bit of inspiration, before spotting a beat-up little structure on the other side of the bridge. “Newsstand!” He piped. “Crow Newsstand! And you are?” He held out his hand to this past, and very young version of his brother, expecting a handshake. Stan flinched at the outcoming hand, and his red, tear-glazed face quickly turned into an angry snarl. 

“None of your beeswax, old man!” Stan growled. “Now leave me alone!” 

Stan angrily stomped over to his car, climbed in, and sped off, probably heading off to Carla McCorkles house. 

Ford let out a sigh. He’d forgotten how quick Stan was to put up a front of anger to cover up tears. It’d been something he did since he was twelve and his father had barked at him for crying, telling Stan that it was about time he grew up and became a real man. And men didn’t cry. It’d been what Stan did when Ford told him to take his book and leave the day he got stuck in the portal. Abandonment issues would do that to a person. And Stan had done that all throughout his time between coming home and Weirdmaggedon. Mabel had told him that Stan seemed angrier than usual. And giving how Wendy and Soos hadn’t stopped glaring at him, Ford could assume  _ why _ Stan had been “angry”. 

But since the memory wipe, it seemed like his brother had forgotten how to put up his walls. Stan had become a lot more, well, open, than he had ever been before. The kids noticed, Ford noticed, and even Stan had noticed. 

“Guess I jus’ didn’ really like people,” Stan had laughed when asked about it. “Can’t remember why, though,” 

Eventually, Stan  _ did _ remember why, but he had Ford to help him through it. He didn’t need to close himself off again. 

But that was now, this was then. And  _ then _ , Stanley would be damned if he let anyone think he was vulnerable. 

Ford crossed off the date on the list. He could honestly say, he was proud of his brother. Here he thought that Stan was planning on jumping.

He should’ve known that his brother wouldn’t have given up that easily. 

The next date was July 31st, same year. Ford recognized it as the date that Stan had been banned from the state of New Jersey. Ford remembered that day clearly. Their mother wouldn’t stop crying. That had also been the day that Ford had stopped applying himself to his college applications, or school in general, really. He didn’t want to admit it at the time, but Stanley’s absence had truly hit him hard. It wasn’t a date on the list that the Time Bureau had given him, but Ford had a feeling it’d be a date he’d want to be there for. 

He took a deep breath, and activated the time-tape. 


End file.
